


Life?

by HamishHolmes



Series: Death!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamishHolmes/pseuds/HamishHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team succumb to the Black God who takes us all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crash

Sam and Gabriel were on the road. Gabriel was snoozing lightly in the passenger seat as they roared to Cas and Dean’s house for Dean’s surprise birthday party. They were heading south quickly and, just as the sun was rising, Gabriel stirred and sat up.

“Hey Sammy, where are we?” he asked, snapping up two cups of coffee.

“Just entered Iowa,” smiled Sam, taking his coffee and drinking heavily.

Then it happened. A loud roaring sound was heard by both men and then Sam shifted into reverse and slammed his foot down hard. The lorry plunged into the nose of their car, sending it spinning and rolling over the road edge. Sam held up his arms and, though he didn’t hear it over the rushing of his own blood, the soft sound of fluttering wings was made as Gabriel automatically zapped out of trouble.

All Sam knew was that Gabe was gone and the car was tipping and rolling down the embankment. Blood filled his mouth and poured down his chin. He heard the crack of his arm, loud over the other sounds, and he screamed. The pain seared through him and he fell back against the chair as the car finally came to a halt. He could feel the blood dripping down his chest, but agony erupted as he tried to look and assess the damage. He lay still hearing the steady thrum of the blood in his ears.

 _Gabe. Gabriel. I know you are out there somewhere. Please._ He thought as he passed out of consciousness.

Gabriel arrived on the scene of the crash immediately. He moved towards the car, where he saw the unconscious Sam, blood everywhere, staining the world red. He stood there, next to the smouldering wreckage of the passenger door and stared at the prone body of the younger Winchester. Then he snapped. He howled long and loud. Tears streamed down his face, falling off his chin and onto the burning floor below.

He snapped his fingers. Then he was there, his head on Sam’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing. He listened harder. Nothing. Sam was gone. He had left the building. The show was over, lights out. Gabriel laid there, blood pooling around his head, sticky and warm.

Gabriel stood up. The loud sirens of an ambulance came into hearing and he prepared himself for the usual mind-changing trick. He wanted to tell them the truth, though. He wanted to yell it from the roof-tops. How in Sam’s moment of need he had run away like a coward. Years of hiding from Michael and Lucifer had sent him spinning out of reach at the first sign of danger. He wanted to tell them that he was a coward and that Dean would never forgive him. Cas would try but ultimately, he would fail. Gabriel himself knew that his wings could have protected Sam. But they didn’t.

He convinced the medics that he was ok, having ‘jumped from the vehicle before it went to shit’, and that he needed to ride in the ambulance with Sammy. But the lights didn’t flash and the sirens didn’t wail. Sam Winchester was dead.

Sam’s phone lit up, showing Dean’s caller ID.

Gabriel picked up.

_Hey Sammy. You caught in the traffic? We heard there’d been an accident._

Gabriel could hear the question in Dean’s voice, but he didn’t want to give the answer.

“Hey Dean,” he said, hoping that would say it all.

_Hey Gabriel, put Sammy on will y’a?_

“Dean, Sam’s ...” Gabe couldn’t continue, his voice catching in his throat.

 _If you say ‘busy sucking your dick’ I’ll kill you._ Said Dean, hopefully on the other end of the line.

“Dead,” whispered Gabriel, his voice no more than a whisper. But Dean heard it clear as a bell.

Gabriel could hear the pain in his breaths; feel the tears on his cheeks. Dean would blame him, he had every right.

Then the screaming started, raw and painful on the other end of the line. One of the paramedics looked at Gabe with such sympathy that Gabe’s own tears rushed back and soon, the two people Sam loved most in the world were crying in unison.

The paramedic pulled a blanket round Gabe’s shoulders but he shrugged it off. The phone had gone dead in his hands and he put it down. She tried again with the blanket but Gabriel threw it away.

“I DON’T DESERVE IT!!” He yelled, tears wrenching themselves from his gut as he sobbed in the woman’s arms.

“You’re in shock; we understand,” she said, her voice soothing.

“I SHOULD HAVE SAVED HIM!”Gabriel cried, his face burning, his tears like acid.  
***  
He had stopped crying when they reached the hospital, but he refused to let Sam out of his sight. He walked with them as they carried him to the morgue and sent out a signal to Castiel to tell them where Sam was. Gabriel wanted to run then. He wanted to run far. He wanted to hide again, become Loki again. He wanted to do anything but face up to Dean. But he owed it to Sam. He would see it through to its bitter end and then he would go and lie in a cave for thousands of years and block his heart to the emotions he had foolishly let in.

“Gabriel,” came a soft voice behind him, and he turned to see Castiel stood there, holding Dean up with one arm and reaching out with the other.  
Gabriel moved away from the touch. He didn’t deserve it.

“Gabriel,” said Dean’s voice, broken as his spirit, “it’s not your fault.”

“How long did Cas take to train you to say that?” asked Gabriel, his voice full of unnecessary bitterness.

“I mean it,” said Dean, standing a little straighter, “you did your best. I’m certain of it. Don’t walk out on us. Don’t go into hiding. Don’t become the man you were before. He fixed you, like he fixed me, like he fixed us all and he loved you with all his heart.”

Dean collapsed back against Cas’ shoulder and soon all three of them were stood in the empty morgue with tears on their faces and holes in their hearts.  
Life would never be the same again.


	2. The Warehouse

Gabriel paused. Was this what Sam would have wanted? No. The simple answer was no. Sammy would have wanted him to move on. But there was no moving on. Sam had never believed that he was good enough, that he was worthy. But Gabe loved him with all his heart.

He sat in the abandoned warehouse where the Winchesters had surrounded him in holy fire, where they had first changed his life. He fished in his pocket and brought out the soft velvet box. He’d never got to give Sam his half. Not while he was alive anyway. When the morgue was empty, Gabriel had slipped back in and gently pushed the engagement ring onto Sam’s finger.

“Now we match, Sammitch,” he whispered, running his fingers through Sam’s hair one last time.

He remembered that now and smiled. He remembered how shocked the nurse had seemed when he had turned up to the summons of his fiancée. Sam would have laughed at her expression, his loud booming guffaw filling the empty hospital.

Gabe flicked the box open and pulled out the identical ring. The only difference was that inside his said _Sammy’s Forever_ whilst his lover’s had said _Gabe’s Until The End Of Time._ He slipped on the ring and watched as the gemstone glittered in the half light. 

He pulled out his archangel-blade and stared at it. He stared at the one object on earth that could bring him peace. He nicked his finger with the tip and a pool of blood welled instantly. Still sharp then.

Gabriel took a deep breath and turned the point to his heart.

“NO!” yelled Castiel, but he was too late. He saw the look of desperate relief on his brother’s face before the light flashed and the warehouse faded to darkness. Gabriel’s wings had burned into the floor and the walls and part of the ceiling. The feathery marks stopped at Cas’ boots and brushed lightly at his shadow.

There was no blood. There never is when and archangel dies, just and empty shell, devoid of the life once given to it by their Father. The vessel of Gabriel, custom made with the highest metabolism known to anyone, lay crumpled on the floor.

Cas’ screams rocked the foundations of the warehouse and people in the neighbouring town wondered if it was an earthquake. He collected the vessel and returned to the house he shared with Dean and, since the accident, Gabe. Tears streamed down the angel’s usually impassive face and when he saw Dean, he dropped his brother’s lifeless form and folded himself into his hunter’s arms.

“He’s gone, Dean. He killed himself!” howled Castiel, rocking his forehead into Dean’s shoulder.

Dan held Cas tightly, bound by the love for lost brothers. Eventually, they lay down to bed, holding each other for comfort that they desperately needed.

They lived on, slowly hunting all the angels that controlled the fates of all the angels. It was their last homage to Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord


	3. The Fight

Castiel headed towards the place where they thought Naomi was staying. Dean followed a few meters behind him. They crept towards the motel room, quietly signalling to each other and planning their moves. They slunk through the door and surveyed the area. It appeared to be empty. They needed to find the last angel controller, and then their jobs would be finished. Dean cursed loudly when they found that the room was empty. They couldn’t believe that she had avoided them again.

Cas was sent flying into Dean. With a crunch they collided and hit the wall behind them.

“Hello, boys!” said Naomi, and Dean wondered when she had found the time to take lessons from Crowley.

Neither spoke and after a moments silence she spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Castiel,” she said, mocking, “How rude!”

“Hello, Naomi,” said Castiel, his inbuilt politeness taking over, but he couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice.

He tried to move, tried to get off Dean, but Naomi’s grip didn’t loosen and he tumbled back onto Dean’s lap.

“Now, now, Castiel,” she said, smiling down at the sprawling angel, “You need to learn to stay still and listen!”

Castiel grumbled but didn’t attempt to get up again because he knew that an angel’s grip could be very tight when they wanted it to be. He shifted his weight so that Dean would be more comfortable then lay still.

“Castiel, you have never done what you were asked and now you openly hunt those who gave you orders!” Castiel opened his mouth to interrupt. “Shut it! So now, as the only one with enough skills to outwit you, I must take you down. You are a danger to Heaven.”

So saying, Naomi drove her angel blade, which had materialised in her hand, was buried deep in Castiel’s chest, up to its hilt. Dean’s yell was loud and guttural. Then Naomi gave a sharp twist and the blade pierced Cas’ heart and his grace lit bright, filling the motel room with a pure white light.

Dean’s scream was long and drawn. That Cas lay dead in his arms was enough, but a searing pain laced across his torso and legs. He lifted the corpse off his body and slipped his hidden angel blade from the compartment where he knew Cas had had it hidden after he lost his primary blade on a hunt one time. He jammed it under Naomi’s jaw and pulled, causing a bright light to spray from her eye-sockets. 

“That is for Cas, BITCH!” he yelled, feeling his emotions bubbling into life and floating to the surface of his mind.

Then the tears welled in his eyes ad he cried again like he hadn’t done since Sam had died. And he couldn’t do anything but feel the agony in his mind and soul and cry tears of desolation and loneliness.

He felt his heart shatter and his world collapsed as he leant down to put his head against his angel’s chest, covering his hair in blood. The tears dribbled down his face and made twisting tracks through the dirt on his cheeks.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He said, wanting him to hear, wanting him to know. But Cas was long gone and Dean was left sobbing over a corpse in a bloody motel room.

When Dean remembered that he wasn’t dead and that the searing pain on his torso was still present, he got up and went to the bathroom to check on his condition.  
In the mirror, as he lifted his shirt, he saw red feather marks across his lower torso. They still stung but looked like the hand-print on his shoulder hand when it was fresh and raw. Dean knew enough about the death of angels to know that their wings burned into the ground but he’d never speculated about what happened to anything caught in the blast. Well now he knew. And it brought him no solace.


	4. The Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends.

Dean lived alone for a year in the house where he and Cas had lived together, but maybe living is too strong a word for the pale existence. Dean lived off credit card scams as they had when they were younger, and he ordered all his shopping online, refusing to leave the house. He got many visits from the kindly old lady who lived next door, but he never answered the door, or the phone; he just shouted through terse replies to her probing questions.

Losing Sammy and Cas within the space of two years had broken the man once famous for his resolve and ability to mask his feelings. Even Garth, who tried too hard all the time, gave up trying to contact Dean. The only people Dean wanted to talk to were dead. Cas, Sammy, Bobby, John, Mary, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pam, heck even Gabriel though Dean would scarcely admit it.

So he stayed in his house for that lonely year before he decided to get back out into the world. He called Garth and toured the country, visiting all the tourist destinations they never got to see. He took pictures and kept them with the letters that he had written to his family after they had died. He took photos at Disney land and paid for the framed ones so that he could keep them in the trunk of the impala. He sold the house and slept in his car or motel rooms and he travelled far and wide across the country never staying still. Because, the truth was, Dean couldn’t bear to stop. Wherever he stopped he saw reminders. People they had saved who smiled at him as they passed. Motels they had stayed in, diners where they had eaten. They brought back painful memories, memories he didn’t want to have.

But the thing that broke Dean was when he visited the town where they had met Famine, though he didn’t recognise it at first. He recognised the diner though, and, as he sat down waiting for his pie, he recalled the day when Famine had confirmed what Dean already knew.

_‘You’re dead inside’_

The old man had been right, but then Dean had filled the hole with the fight, with the will to save Sammy and the will to prevent the apocalypse. But now he was truly empty, walking through the land of the living, seeing only ghosts of the past, wanting only people long gone. 

He went back to the impala and opened the boot.

“Last trip, baby,” he said, removing Ruby’s knife and carrying it, along with the box of letters and photos to the front of the impala. Then he roared off, heading home. He reached Kansas and stood outside his old house. It had been rebuilt and was respectable now. No more demon fires. He stood, leaning on the hood of his precious car as he wrote onto a card: ‘Please cremate me. Name: Dean Winchester’. He wanted to be honest in death. He read the letters and looked at the photos one last time. He stared at them for seemingly forever. At the happy faces of them in the younger years and the old haggard looks of him on his final road trip. He looked at the house where it had all began. Then he took a seat in the impala’s front seat and positioned two things over his heart: the note of his death wishes and the last picture of them. Jo, Ellen, Cas, Bobby Sammy and him, the night they hunted the devil. Then he stabbed downwards into his heart, pinning them to his chest with his final action. Then blood welled around his knife and Dean was gone.  
When the lady who lived in the Winchesters’ old house found the body of a man, a knife skewering him through his chest, she screamed long and hard, and then went inside to find her phone and call the police. She reported a suicide and the cops spread the word that Dean Winchester was officially dead.

No one cared. No one, that is, except for a boy who was once in advanced placement, dragged into the mess by Dean and Sam. No one ... except a man who lay down cuddling Mr Fizzles for months because he finally felt alone. No one ... including a woman and her son, who had never heard of Dean Winchester, but recognised him as the man who hit their car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want, I'll do a Funeral for Dean and journey's to heaven for them all.


End file.
